


3: Lost Boy

by rahelawriter



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Character Study, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, FFxivWrite2019, Gen, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahelawriter/pseuds/rahelawriter
Summary: His first memory was of water.[Prompt #3 for FFXIV Write 2019: Lost]





	3: Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> i love thancred waters with all my heart and that story from last week ruined me

_ His first memory was of water. Of staring out into a grey and rainy sea from a dock. Of sitting there for hours and hours, waiting for something, or someone.  _

_ He was so small, making himself as small as possible to hide from the frigid rain, an overturned crate providing his meager shelter.  _ _He watched the horizon, keeping his tired and tear-reddened eyes open and focused. The sound of heavy rain on the wood oppressed his hearing; the sheets of rain on the sea filled his vision with opaque, white fog. There was distant thunder, but the wind wasn't strong enough for it to be a storm. A ship wouldn't sink in this weather._

_ He shivered and hugged his knees as the hours turned day into night. Slowly the realization sunk in, dousing and drowning the spark of hope within his heart that he was trying to keep lit. He had been abandoned. Unwanted. Unloved. Alone. Soaked and freezing and starving and frightened and **utterly alone.** _

_He had nothing and he had nobody. He **was** nothing and he **was** nobody._

_ He doesn’t actually know how old he is. He doesn't remember the faces or names of his parents. And that day of waiting and night of crying was only the start of a hellish childhood of abuse and exploitation and solitude. It all that began on that dock, watching that empty sea, shivering in that freezing rain. Waiting for the parents that threw him away. _

_ He was a lost boy. A wandering boy. _

_ He survived. _

_ He stepped off that same dock, climbing the gangplank onto the ship that would take him to a better life. Following the near-stranger that saw something worth saving in someone as discarded, as dirty, as damaged as him.  _

_ He was a found boy. _


End file.
